Editor’s Note: The day after our reporter turned in this story he quit. “It was worse than boot camp,” Snake said, “I was surrounded by the best custom manufactured bikes in the industry and the hottest women Wichita could muster then drug from location to location by the mad dog of motorcycle photography, Michael Lichter.”

Snake’s been a member of Bandit’s editorial crew for over 35 years. He’s a slacker, a drunk and most of the time he’s on the verge of being fired. He’s late on assignments constantly, turns in incomplete work and hits on all the girls. He’s not even much of a mechanic. The entire Bikernet editorial crew was surprised when he received the assignment to cover the photo shoot behind the first Big Dog Swimsuit Calendar, in the hometown of the company, Wichita, Kansas. He tossed three sets of boxer shorts in a suitcase with a 12-pack of Coronas and four limes and hit it to the airport in Los Angeles.

He’ll be back, but in the meantime here’s his story.-- Renegade

I’ll tell my story, all right. I was honored to have an assignment that took me farther than Burrito Mama’s to pick up lunch. Big Dog is currently the largest manufacture of American motorcycles, beyond the H-D factory. They build the sharpest array of production customs in the industry. Bandit calls ‘em the Lexus of the industry. I was pumped to be blessed with an all- expense voyage to Wichita, besides there are no girls in this third world country, between San Pedro and Long Beach California. It’s a no-girl land, ghetto on the edge of the port of Los Angeles. You can imagine the sheer joy coarsing through my bones at the thought of attending a Swimsuit shoot with the master of motorcycle photography, Mike Lichter.

That’s where my joy ended. I’ll explain. Mike Lichter kicked off his biker/photo career by shooting the Black Hills Rally, in Sturgis, for Bandit in 1981. He’s a persnickety bastard, who doesn’t have the slightest regard for a bad photo, the wrong light or a stinky pose. He’s a perfectionists and I noted the organized tenure the moment his staff hustled off the plane in Wichita, with 2-tons of equipment. Steve and Emily dashed off the plane, rented a semi and began to set up a photo studio to shoot the 2006 model line-up and the Big Dog apparel catalog, while mike and I were whisked to the suburbs looking at locations for the calendar shoot.

This was the beginning of six days of boot camp mayhem. We worked from a bugle-blown wake-up call at 5:00 every morning until the last rays of sunlight flickered over Mount Vernon. When we weren’t shooting two bikes at once in a brisk morning 30-minute window, I was holding reflectors in 100 degree July swelter. Between mad rush morning shoots, while the sun rose rapidly in the eastern sky, and sunset shoots where we moved bikes inch by inch to maintain the proper light, we ran to the portable Lichter studio to shoot new models, then to another location for apparel photography.

Between taking notes, holding reflectors, organizing apparel, lifting bikes onto loading docks and reloading truck loads of Nikon camera equipment, I couldn’t grab a beer or hit on a local Wichita model. The frustration was extreme as I gazed at the model test shots, not the bikes, the girls. Mike’s a devout family man and he looked at the girls’ curves as if they were the lines of a Big Dog painted fender.

Mike’s crew was made up of somber Steve, recently married, a man with the passion of an egg timer, then there’s Emily. A little brunette with big dark eyes who attracted me like Billy Lane to a fifth of Jack Daniels. She was off limits, under the constant fatherly scrutiny of Master Lichter. That still left me with at least 12 models and half the population of Wichita. How could I go wrong? I was the new guy in town. Except I couldn’t breath. “Snake,” Mike snapped. “Grab that 3-foot diameter reflector quick, and roll that K-9 back a foot. We’re losing light.”

The days turned into a blur of blistering heat and camera settings. Ultimately, in six days the Lichter crew shot over 200 images that were used in the Big Dog Calendar, their catalog and for new model presentations. We have a serious selection right here on Bikernet. Here’s the goddamn Calendar rundown.

January

That’s Kelly, a lanky Wichita girl, with a bathing suit that looked like a couple of Hobbie Kat sails. I tried over and over to get close enough to her navel to seriously inspect her glittering piercings. I would have worked my way up from there, but Mike barked at me, as if he was the protective father of every model. This black stretched K-9 Big Dog was shot in a place called the yard on the edge of town. It’s an old dilapidated junkyard of industrial buildings. The afternoon light was fading on the surreal flame job as Mike shouted orders.

My hand yearned for Kelly’s cleavage and got no closer than a 4-by-8-foot sheet of foam core board, used to reflect light onto her sultry soft skin and the hard-to-shoot black stretched Big Dog frame with adjustable shocks, a hidden oil bag, easily retractable rear-mounted kickstand and low seat position.

The K-9 Engine was polished 117-inch brute power, with a S&S Super G carb, single-fire ignition, electronic compression releases (to save the starter), and a safety electronic kill switch.

During lunch breaks that were chow fests under the constant scrutiny of Mr. Lichter, we rode some of the bikes. With their exclusively designed right side drive transmissions and balance drive lines, 300 tires weren’t cumbersome.

Once on board the K-9 I contemplated hitting any interstate for an escape run, but Kelly’s cleavage pulled me back.

February

I fell in love outside an old Tire repair joint on the edge of town. Something about those sunglasses and the way she sat on that 21-inch Pitbull tire. Mike barked at me as I offered to lace up her shoes. He shot every bike at three different angles to afford his clients a variety of images to choose from. She didn’t bring a bathing suit and I liked her outfit.

The sun was drifting and we moved bikes mere inches to capture the perfect lighting on her thighs and that long and low crimson rigid frame. The key to the Big Dog growth is fit and finish, exclusively designed contoured controls and reliability. I knew if I could grab that Pitbull and Amanda during a smoke break, I could be long gone with that helical geared 6-speed transmission and a 4.6 gallon gas tank that would blast through 200 miles before I’d be force to stop to refuel.

I wanted her bad, but it wasn’t in the cards. Broke my heart.

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